


Shaping the Colours

by slightly_ajar



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Comfort zone challenge, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_ajar/pseuds/slightly_ajar
Summary: No one is certain when Soul Marks were first discovered.  No one could tell you who named them. And no one remember being taught that they exist.  They’re just something that everyone knows about, like the way they know all the words to the songs they’ve been singing since childhood and understand that the sun will come up in the morning.
Relationships: Angus MacGyver/Desiree "Desi" Nguyen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Shaping the Colours

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Comfort Zone Challenge. It’s late – it took a longer than expected to finish. When I was thinking about what I might want to do for the challenge I saw a quote from The Good Place - “If soulmates exist they aren’t found, they’re made” – and I made me think about writing a soulmate AU. As a rule I’m not a big fan of soulmate AUs, I find the whole idea of soulmates depressing to be honest – planet Earth is a big places with seven continents and seven and a half billion people living on them, what are chances of being in the same place at the same time as the one person you’re supposed to be with in amongst all that? Everyone would know that happiness is out somewhere but they probably never find it so they’d live their whole lives feeling like they’ve missed out on something amazing. Like I say, depressing. But if you make your soulmates rather than stumble across them one day, that’s different. Hence, this story…

_If soulmates exist they aren’t found, they’re made – The Good Place_

No one is certain when Soul Marks were first discovered. No one could tell you who named them. And no one remember being taught that they exist. They’re just something that everyone knows about, like the way they know all the words to the songs they’ve been singing since childhood and understand that the sun will come up in the morning. 

In fairy stories soulmates know they’ve found each other in an instant. Prince Charming kisses Sleeping Beauty, she opens her eyes, looks deep into his and a mark of a rose appears on both their collarbones. And they all live happily ever after. 

The real world is more complicated than that. Soul marks don’t just bloom when stranger’s eyes meet across a crowded room. They’re built with care and patience. They’re earned. Sometimes unexpectedly. With undignified giggles and ducking under shops awnings to hide from the rain. With coffee breaks and disagreements. Stubbornness and camaraderie. The tentative brush of fingers and shared smiles. When song lyrics start to make sense and you find yourself missing someone when they aren’t there. 

When it happens, after it happens, you know that the mark on your skin isn’t just another scar or tattoo. The form Soul Marks take vary depending on the pairing. Some people have an image. Some people’s Soul Marks are more natural than that. Mac’s parents’ had a smattering of freckles on their upper arms just above their elbows in the shape of the constellation Cygnus. But when your own mark appears you know exactly what it means. Or at least that’s what everyone says. 

Mac saw his father’s Soul Mark whenever he went with him to a chemotherapy sessions. 

“It takes time to get to know a new partner, son,” James had told him during his first chemo session Mac had gone to with him after Mac had met Desi. “When you’ve been working with the same person for a long time you get used to each other, you fall into a rhythm and it takes time to find a new beat with someone else. It will come.” 

”She ate my chips and she doesn’t like it when I don’t tell her my plans.” Mac glanced away from the needle in his father’s arm and the pattern of freckles above it, looking back at the chessboard between him and his father and the game he was deliberately losing. “There isn’t always time to explain what I’m thinking, especially since I don’t always know where I’m going until I get there. You know what it’s like. I need her to trust me.” 

“You and Agent Nguyen will be fine.” James said, “You’re just having teething problems. She’s an excellent agent. She’s very skilled and came highly recommended.” 

Desi’s boots tapped quietly against the floor of the Phoenix Headquarters’ corridors as she searched for her new partner. Mac was an excellent agent. He was very skilled and came highly recommended. The whole Phoenix team were excellent, some of the best people Desi had ever worked with but they didn’t operate like anyone she’d ever known and the improvising thing worried her. She’d seen Mac’s improvisations in action and they were effective, they’d even saved her life, but how much of their success was down to luck? How much relied on the element of surprise and chutzpah? Those things did give results - but only for so long. Desi had lost people to overconfidence. Audacity doesn’t stop a well-aimed bullet or make up for verifying intel and waiting until backup are outside the door. Mac was smart but he couldn’t know his plans were going to work, could he? 

“Bozer?” Desi called when she saw him turn a corner. “Do you know where Mac is?” 

“He’s in the lab.” Bozer gestured behind him with his thumb. “We’re on Think Tank duty today.” 

“Are you making something with him?” Desi hadn’t quite got her head around the whole part of the Phoenix where, because pretended to be a think tank, every now and then it had to produce something to keep up that cover. The lab with it’s shining chrome and white coated hush wasn’t just there to support missions. The Phoenix Foundation prevented terrorist attacks and international incidents but it also helped produce policies and labour saving devices. Desi suspected that it had been instrumental in the creation of the Pokémon Go app but had no proof and wasn’t sure if she should ask. 

“I am. We’re at the part of the planning stage where there’s lots of calculations with equations that have big numbers and squiggly symbols.” 

“Like that pi thing that looks like a little table?” 

“Yeah. And triangles and upside down letters.” Bozer shuddered. 

“That sounds tricky.” 

“It is. It’s way more Mac’s thing than mine so he does the calculations while I get the supplies. If anyone needs me I’ll be at the vending machine choosing chocolate.” 

“That sounds like a solid distribution of labour,” Desi said. 

Bozer nodded. “The square root of this equation plus multiples of that number equals Bozer buying candy.” 

Amused, Desi quirked a smile. “Do you often talk about yourself in the third person?” 

“No,” Bozer wrinkled his nose up, “And I don’t think I’ll do it again. It sounded all kinds of wrong.” 

“Good choice.” 

“Do you want anything from the vending machine?” Bozer asked. 

“No, thank you.” Desi watched Bozer head off on a hunt for sweet treats and started walking towards the lab. 

She found Mac in the lab just as Bozer said. He was leaning over a table writing. She was about to call to him but stopped herself just as she took a breath. 

Mac was staring down at the paper in front of him scribbling furiously, his head bowed, oblivious to everyone and everything around him. When he reached the bottom of his page he pushed it aside impatiently and started writing directly onto the table underneath it. Soon numbers and symbols scrawled in green sharpie were jostling each other for space on the white work surface. Mac filled the table with his calculations and moved on to the one next to it without losing a beat. Desi could see that he was utterly focused, his thoughts flowing freely, making connections, creating new ones, finding solutions. 

Content to watch, Desi folded her arms and leaned against the lab’s door jam. Mac could be focused like that in the field but a piece of his awareness was always on where he was, who he was with and what was happening around him. There were no distractions in the lab, no bullets to dodge or team mates or civilians to protect and he was free to unleash his mind without restrictions. 

The Mac in front of Desi was in his element. He seemed lit from within, his eyes bright and his smile genuine, his hand dashing from one side of the table to the other as he tried to note down his thoughts as quickly as they came. There was no audacity there, just focused intelligence, intent and imagination. Just Mac. 

Desi pushed herself away from the door without speaking and left Mac to his project. 

  


“I knew this mission would go sideways. A day that starts with a War Room full of serious looking people in suits never ends well,” Desi cursed. “Later, when I have time and if we’re still alive, I’m going to be pleased with myself for being right about that.” 

Mac and Desi ducked and a hail of bullets peppered the wall behind them. Each hole blown into the menu that was hanging on the wall was at the height where their heads had just been. They darted to the left, dodging around tables and chairs until they were out of range of the men who’d been sent to kill them. 

“Of all the days to end up being ambushed by rogue agents it had to be this one,” Desi swore as she ran. 

Mac pulled over two trolleys full of dishes to delay the bad guys, scattering the ground with shattered pieces of plates and coffee cups. “What’s special about today?” Mac asked as he sprinted beside Desi. 

”Today’s my brother’s birthday and I said I’d call him.” Desi threw her shoulder against the door to the restaurant's kitchen to push it open, leaving a smear of blood behind her. “I was out of the country and missed it last year and I promised him that wouldn’t happen again.” 

Mac turned the lock of the kitchen door. Just above the lock, stark against the clean white paint, was the bold stripe of Desi’s blood. “Desi!” A fresh jolt of worry joined the nerves already spiking adrenaline through Mac’s body. “You’re bleeding!” 

Desi was searching the room, her gun ready, studying every potential hiding place. “I’m okay.” 

The kitchen was spotlessly clean and tidy with modern appliances and a scrubbed floor. If Mac didn’t die and the restaurant wasn’t destroyed in the upcoming fight he thought he might go back there for lunch. You couldn’t understate the importance of a restaurant with an excellent hygiene rating. The menu had looked good too, he’d noticed the meals listed on the specials board before it had been riddled with bullet holes. 

Mac pointed at the door, his jaw tense. “The bloody handprint over there says otherwise.” 

”Don’t worry, MacGyver, I’m still moving so everything’s fine.” The way Desi winced as she looked over her shoulder at Mac dented her bravado somewhat. 

“Okay,” Mac said. “Maybe you’re all right now, but how much longer are you going to be moving for?” The bad guys had come in through the back door and were bound to be guarding the front entrance. The standoff that was about to happen was either going to be quick and mess or would be a drawn out game of cat and mouse. If they were going to survive a quick resolution Mac and Desi would have to put up a powerful fight, and to see the end of the day after a drawn out chase they would have to maintain their concentration. Neither of those things would be easy to do while bleeding. 

”I’d tell you if there was a problem.” Desi flapped a hand to wave Mac’s concern away. “I’m tougher than I look.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Mac looked hard at Desi’s side and the red stain growing on her shirt, “but blood loss would slow even The Rock down eventually.” 

Desi stopped pacing and turned to Mac. “Are you comparing me to The Rock?” 

“Do you mind?” 

“What? No! The Rock’s awesome.” 

Bangs, shouts and an ominous metal clanging sounded in the distance. 

Mac gestured at the kitchen door. “That won’t hold those guys for long.” 

“So what should we do?” Desi asked. “Fight or flight?” 

”I’d say fight, but we need to decide how we stand our ground.” Mac looked around him at the means of potential attack and defence littering the room… _knives, gas pipes, steam, lighter, cast iron skillet, flour, oil…_

“How about that?” Desi pointed to a store cupboard. “You funnel the bad guys into there and I’ll neutralise them one by one as they come through the door.” 

That could work.” Mac’s eyes flickered around the room assessing dimensions and measuring angles, “But isn’t that plan a little too reckless? If something goes wrong you’ll be trapped and outnumbered in there.” 

“You say that like we haven’t done about nine reckless things already today. How much is too much recklessness anyway?” 

Mac pointed to the cupboard. “Less than that.” 

“Ah come on, MacGyver,” Desi winked, “Where is your adventurous spirit?” 

“It’s right behind the part of me that wants us both to go home at the end of today.” 

A snapping, cracking crunch from above saved Desi from answering. Mac and Desi looked up and were faced with the sight of the three bad guys they’d been running from dropping through the ceiling tiles. 

“Okay, never mind,” Desi yelled, “it’s time for Plan B.” 

“I think,” Mac said as he aimed a right hook at the scowling man who’d just landed in front of him, “that we're on something like Plan E now.” 

Fighting isn’t graceful. The balletic, flowing battles that happen in action movies are choreographed by trained stunt people who've practiced moves that make them look like they’re knocking the ever loving hell out of each other when they're really reproducing actions that look cool but don’t actually hurt anyone. Real fist fights aren’t like that. Real fights are messy, brutal and primitive. Mac knew when he fought he didn’t look like a cast member of Swan Lake. He fought like someone who was trying to stay alive. There was no shame in that. If he and his friends got to walk away he didn’t care if he hadn't nailed fourth position. He kicked out at the man opposite him catching him hard in the chest then grabbed a large pan from the shelves beside him and smashed it into his opponent’s head. The echoing ‘dong’ sound the saucepan made when it connected with his attacker’s skull was almost funny. 

“Can I borrow that?” Desi called to Mac and Mac threw the pan in her direction. Desi snatched it out of the air and hit the man charging her with it. He span around almost three hundred and sixty degrees before hitting the floor. 

Desi didn’t fight like a prima ballerina either. But she did fight with a fluidity that seemed effortless. She took down the two other bad guys with a set of sinuous punches and kicks that reminded Mac of a murmuration of birds or a very angry puma. 

The fight was over as quickly as it had begun and Mac and Desi stood facing each other, breathless and with the unconscious bodies of their downed enemies littering the floor between them. 

“It looks like Plan E worked then.” Desi lowered her hands from the fighting stance she’d been holding them in. 

That’s just as well,” Mac said, “since Plan F was probably going to be us setting the whole place on fire.” 

“Isn’t ‘burning something down’ always your Plan F?” 

“It’s usually one of the options I have in my head.” 

“You might want to work on that.” 

Mac shrugged and hummed casually, “Maybe, but everyone enjoys a nice, big fire don’t they?” He grabbed three dishtowels and started to secure the bad guys with them. As he tied the hands of the first man Mac noticed a Soul Mark, a jagged horizontal line like a bolt of lightning or the display from a heart rate monitor, on the back the unconscious man’s neck. Mac felt a tug of something blunt and heavy in his gut whenever took down someone with a Soul Mark. By taking that person into custody he was splitting up a soul pairing, potentially forever. But the man on the floor was a killer, Mac reminded himself, he’d made his own choice, the consequences of his actions were his own. 

Desi moved to help Mac and swayed. 

“You should sit down. I know you’re fine,” Mac said quickly before Desi could protest, “but you can be fine sat down.” 

Desi lowered herself to the ground with slow determination, grimacing through the pain in her side. Mac secured the hands of the final unconscious man and grabbed a first aid kit from the wall. 

“Here,” he said, “let me look at that.” 

Mac was a gentleman. In any other circumstance when a lady he wasn’t dating was moving her clothes to reveal her body he would look away. But he needed to look at and touch Desi’s bared skin to tend her wound. 

“Right.” Desi eased her arms out of her jacket, wincing at the movement, then pulled up her shirt to show Mac her side. 

That doesn’t look too deep,” Mac said examining the cut that ran through the tattoos colouring Desi’s flank, “I’ll dress it for now and they can decide about stitches when we get you to Medical.” 

Mac pulled on a pair of gloves from the first aid kit and mentally cleared his throat. He double checked Desi’s injury for imbedded objects, sterilised the area and then applied pressure with a dressing. When he was done Desi pulled her jacket back on, looked at her watch and swore. 

“I need to call my brother,” she said, “do I look okay?” 

Mac blinked slowly. “You look very nice.” He tried to stop his voice rising in inflection at the end of the sentence so it didn’t sound like a question. He almost managed. 

“You're too kind,” Desi deadpanned. “Do I look like I’ve been in a brawl?” 

There was blood on Desi’s cheek from where she’d pushed her hair away from her eyes after holding her injured side and soot from the explosion Mac had set off earlier that day speckled her forehead. 

“A little,” Mac answered honestly. 

“Great.” Desi searched through the first aid kit until she found an antiseptic wipe and scrubbed at her skin with it. “How about now?” 

“You didn’t get it all, hold on.” Mac pulled another antiseptic sheet from the open packet, tipped up Desi’s chin with his forefinger and wiped away the dirt and grime staining her face. 

Being undercover with a partner often meant doing things together that are usually shared between people who are intimate with each other, like walking arm in arm when posing as lovers and lying down together in the boot of a car when sneaking into a well-guarded facility. Saving someone’s life was an oddly intimate act, the first time Mac had saved someone he’d been surprised to feel bonded to that person, like they had developed a responsibility to each other. That feeling had changed a little in the time that had passed since, he’d saved a lot of lives since then – he wasn’t bragging, it was a fact – but he didn’t see those people every day like he did his partner. And Desi had saved his life too. Mac and Desi were experienced agents and could compartmentalise those things away with only a shrug and a deep exhale but gently cleaning Desi’s face? That wasn’t Wookie Life Debt intimacy. And it wasn’t two bodies sharing a small space as graciously as they could, fake kisses or the literally hands on nature of treating an injury. It felt like a genuine, simple act of closeness. And it didn’t feel weird – which made Mac feel weird. 

When Desi’s face was free of dirt Mac lowered his hand. 

“How about now?” Desi asked, turning her head this way then that. “Am I presentable?” 

“You just need to,” Mac put his fingers in Desi’s hair just above her left ear and shook a tangle free. “There. Your brother won’t suspect a thing.” 

“Thank you.” Desi pulled out her phone and held it up to frame the video call to look like she was in a perfectly ordinary place, not sat on the floor of a bullet hole strewn restaurant with unconscious men face down on the floor feet away from her. She started her call. “Hi big brother, happy birthday!” she said, her eyes and voice full of cheer. 

Mac fussed with the first aid kit, rearranging the contents then snapped it shut and walked to the other side of the room to give Desi some privacy. He heard her say, ‘It’s so good to see you. Me? Oh I’m fine, you know what I’m like. Tell me about you, I’ve been thinking about you all day!” 

Mac pulled out his own phone and called for exfil. 

  


“So, this is nice,” Desi said. 

Mac gave a non-committal grunt. 

The moon was lost in the bright lights of LA and the stars were hidden up there somewhere too. The railway line Desi and Mac were walking along was lit by yellow electric lights that gave everything under them a sallow tint and weren’t bright enough for Desi to be able to identify what she was stepping in. When something crunched then squished under her boot she was grateful for that. 

A part of Desi’s job that she loved was that she got to see behind the curtain at the people and infrastructure that ran the world. She’d literally walked along corridors of power and had seen technology that would shape the future. And she’d met leaders and leaders in waiting who were strong and inspirational and who’d restored her faith in and hope for humanity. 

There was a downside to seeing the reality of who and what kept society running, of course. Desi had seen vital systems that were more or less held together with spit, sawdust and the hope that nothing too bad would go wrong. She’d met powerful people who were corrupt, self-serving and too incompetent to realise how incompetent they were. 

Los Angeles Union Station contained both of those elements at once. It’s beautiful architecture held the hub of a carefully managed network of trains that arrived from and departed to destinations all over the country. And behind it’s scenes Desi had spotted oil stains, bare concrete, uninformed staff and dated equipment. 

Platform Two was supposed to have been the setting for a hand over of stolen plans for something that didn’t officially exist to someone who really shouldn’t have them. Desi and Mac had intercepted that, alerted the station’s security to the presence of a very bad man who the FBI were very interested in talking to, and vanished into the night along a maintenance pathway only used by station employees to avoid cameras and questions. The filthy path that ran alongside the live railway track smelled so strongly of diesel that Desi could taste it. She stepped over something moist looking and thought about how being stealthy so often involved being in places that were less than sanitary. 

Mac was quiet. 

Again. 

His silence wasn’t the thinking, planning, imagining kind he often sunk into that was concerned with circuits and moving parts, it was the deep, heavy type that was burdened with grief and sorrow. 

Mac had been quiet ever since they’d lost Oversight. The bereft expression he was wearing under the sickly coloured lights was often present when he thought no one was looking or when he was still long enough to let it surface. There were times that Desi looked at Mac and she could tell that the expression was still there even when it couldn’t be seen, like it had become the true face of his heart and anything his features did on top of it was a carefully constructed mask. Desi wanted to find a way to remove that façade and allow the features underneath it to shift into a shape that was anything but desolate. 

Twin circles of light in the distance indicated headlamps moving towards them. 

“Have you ever seen people scream at a train?” Desi asked Mac. 

Mac looked up at her, frowning at the strangeness of her question, “What?” 

“In movies,” Desi said, “Have you ever seen it where people stand near a railway track and scream as loud as they can when a train goes by, just roaring out everything for it to get lost in the sound of the engine passing?” 

Mac’s confused frown didn’t ease. “No, I’ve never seen that.” 

“So you’ve never done it either?” 

“No.” Mac’s face settled into the expression he wore when he wasn’t following what was happening and was wondering if he’d missed something or if the other person wasn’t making any sense. 

Desi pointed to the lights of the engine heading in their direction. “Do you want to try it now?” 

Mac looked around them as if he was searching for the purpose of Desi’s question, the bad guys she wanted distract or the reason for the daring escape they suddenly needed to make. “Why?” 

“Don’t you want to let everything out?” 

Sometimes something happens that makes everything in you just…

  
  


  
stop

  
  


...and when you start moving again you feel like something in you isn’t working properly. As if misaligned ribs are restricting your lungs or your heart is beating out of kilter. Like the shock you’ve received has jarred you out of rhythm and nothing inside you is moving as it should be. 

The shock of losing his father, the void of James being gone - not being at the end of a phone call if either of them chose to reach out - gone. For real. Forever. That shock had left Mac reeling. Desi thought that if she could get him to inhale deeply, let all that air out then take another deep lungful of oxygen it might help him start breathing comfortably again. 

“There’s no reason to...” Mac looked out at the train heading their way, his jaw tense. “I... “

“C'mon,” Desi put a hand against Mac’s chest and steered him backwards until he was standing with his back against the wall beside the train track. 

“Desi.” Mac sounded exhausted. 

Desi made a ‘’shh!’ gesture and flattened herself against the wall beside Mac. “Trust me, this will be good for you.” 

The train drew closer and closer until suddenly it was flashing in front of them. Metal, weight and speed hurtled past terrifyingly close and Desi took a deep breath and tapped on Mac’s chest, knowing he would understand her ‘now’ signal. 

Desi screamed. She pushed everything out. Emotions that were new and swirling on the surface of her consciousness, ones that were old and embedded. Anger, frustration, fear, uncertainty. She gave a voice to all of them. She couldn’t hear herself, she couldn’t hear Mac but she could tell from the rumble in his chest that she felt through the hand still resting there that he was yelling too. The train was still tearing past them when they ran out of breath, it was so loud Desi felt it’s roar pressing down on her. Lights rushed by and displaced air sent her hair flying. Desi and Mac looked at each other and a spark of understanding passed between them. They both took another breath and screamed again. 

The train finally passed, the back of it’s last carriage clattering and swaying away. Desi watched it’s lights recede into the distance with her ears ringing and her skin tingling with adrenaline. 

Mac’s breaths were coming quickly and although it was difficult to tell under the artificial light Desi thought his face looked flushed. She almost asked him if he was okay but stopped herself. He wasn’t okay. That was the point of what they’d just done. But hopefully, Desi watched Mac shake himself and move away from the wall, hopefully he was a little lighter. 

Desi stepped back out into the pathway. “Are you ready to go?” she asked. 

Mac nodded. 

They both started walking, falling into step with each other. Mac was quiet again but he didn’t seem as oppressed as he had before. 

“Desi?” he said. 

“Yes?” 

“That was a good idea.” A dimple appeared in Mac’s cheek as his lips curved into a grateful smile. “It was good. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

  


Years of practicing Tradecraft made blending in with a crowd a habit. It was something Mac had found himself doing even when he wasn’t on a mission. It had led to strange looks from Bozer before he’d known about Mac’s job as a spy when he did things like take different routes to the beach each time they went and change lanes in traffic for no apparent reason. So not being unobtrusive, being clumsily indiscreet so the people following him could keep on following him, felt very strange. Mac hadn’t ducked into an alley and double backed through a side street and was fighting to ignore the highly trained part of his brain that was telling him that had been a mistake. But in a twisted little way he was actually enjoying being conspicuous. It felt rebellious. It was probably about as punk as he was ever going to get. 

Mac and Desi dawdled at a store window, looking at the display of kitchenware. 

“Oh look, they have a sale on waffle irons,” Desi said. 

“You can do a lot of things with a waffle iron,” Mac told her, the list of their useful parts forming in his mind as he tilted his head to the side to look at the ‘best ever’ price. “The heating element is particularly useful.” 

“Especially if you like waffles.” Desi twitched her chin to draw Mac’s attention upwards, “Trouble at 2 o’clock,” she said. 

Mac had spotted them too. The two people following them, a man and a woman, were loitering at a newspaper stand across the street from Mac and Desi. The Phoenix team had spotted that couple earlier that day driving the car that was tailing theirs. The Phoenix Foundation had agreed to escort an important witness to a safe house and Mac, Desi, Riley and Bozer had noticed their new friends following close behind them as they were driving him out of the city. 

“They’re not very discreet are they?” Bozer had said as he’d snapped a picture of the pair with his phone and sent it to the Phoenix for a facial recognition search. “These aren’t exactly ninja moves they’re showing here, they were pretty easy to spot.” 

“Maybe their skill set is usually more confrontational than sneaky,” Desi said. “I doubt they’re following us just to find out where we’re going.” 

“We have hits on facial rec, chaps,” Russ announced over the coms. “Those two are a clean-up crew for the group Black Thorn, the criminal gang who our charge is due to testify against very soon.” 

“When you say they’re a clean-up crew I’m guessing you don’t mean that they vacuum floors and wash windows?” Mac said. 

“Quite,” Russ answered. “They’re a nasty pair of miscreants all in all, known for making people disappear then turn up again in very small pieces. And to make things a little bit creepier the file says those two are a Soul Pair.” 

“The Clean-Up Twins share a Soul Mark?” Bozer’s top lip curled up, “That’s just nasty!”

“I suppose it’s kind of romantic in a terrifying, horror movie, mass murdering way,” Riley said. 

“I wonder what their mark is.” Desi pulled a face, “It’s probably a chainsaw or something.” 

“Nice,” Riley flicked her gaze up to her rear view mirror to watch the car behind them. “Who thought of giving a criminal gang a name like Black Thorn?” she asked. “It sounds like a kind of tea my grandma would drink.” 

“I don’t know,” Russ replied, “but with those two on your tail it looks like there’s trouble brewing.” There was a very loud silence followed by Russ saying, “Brewing! Brewing? Tea? There’s trouble brewing?” 

“If you have to explain a joke that usually means it’s not funny,” Bozer told him. 

“Wow, tough crowd,” Russ harrumphed, “Anyway, I would suggest you split up and some of you take the witness to safety while the others lead the Gruesome Twosome away.” 

A quick pit stop in an underpass later and Riley and Bozer had care of the witness in the support van while Mac and Desi led the assassins away in the main car. When the unmarked Phoenix van turned off the freeway Mac and Desi went in the opposite direction and parked up in a residential area. The ‘clean-up crew’ followed Mac and Desi from their car to the row of shop they were lingering at. They had just moved away from the shop with the waffle iron sale when Bozer came in over the comms. 

“The eagle has landed,” he said. 

“Pardon?” Desi asked. 

Bozer tried again. “The ace is in the hole.” 

“What’s that now?” Mac said. 

“The witness is at the safe house!” Bozer hissed. “I thought you two were supposed to be spies, haven’t you heard people use codes before? They do it in Bond movies all the time, ‘the goat sails east at midnight’ and all that stuff.” 

“Sorry, Boze,” Mac said, sharing a grin with Desi. “We were a little slow on the uptake there. It’s good to hear that the witness is safe.” By agreeing to testify against the Black Thorn the witness had put a target on his back, he’d known that and had agreed to do it anyway. Bravery like that was admirable and Mac was glad that he’d been able to be part of protecting him. 

“You can lose your new friends now,” Bozer said. “We’ll all feel better when the whole team is back at headquarters. 

“Will do,” Desi said, “We’ll…put the cats back in their bag?” she gave Mac an uncertain look and shrugged. 

“Nice try, Desi,” Bozer said. “It’s not the best code I’ve ever heard but you had a go and that’s what counts.” 

“Thanks, Boze.” 

“You’re welcome. Now all you have to do is come home safely.” 

“See you soon.” Mac said. 

“I have an idea.” Desi grinned and pointed to the sign on a lamp post that read, ‘Festival this way’. “C’mon.” 

“It will be easy to lose our tail in a large crowd,” Mac nodded. “That’s a good idea.” 

“Just you wait,” Desi’s smile grew even wider, “I’ve heard about what happens at this festival, it’s going to be even better than that.” 

She set off in the direction the arrow on the sign was pointing without saying another word. Mac followed. He almost griped about not being told what the plan was but remembered how people had been muttering about him doing the same thing to them for years so he decided to stay quiet. 

Mac and Desi didn’t have tickets for the event in the park but they were secret agents. They ducked, scammed, dodged and bravura-ed their way through the entrance, making sure their pursuers were behind them the whole time. 

Throngs of smiling people surrounded them once they were through the gates. Some people were lingering and chatting in groups but most of the crowd seemed to be drifting purposefully towards an open space in the centre of the festival. Mac and Desi moved with the flow of the crowd passing vendors selling a wonderful variety of things. The bass in the music playing in one stall was up so high that when Mac passed it he could feel it throbbing in his chest and as he moved on that music segued into the cheesy 90’s pop coming from another stall. The aroma of frying onions and spices that drifted out from the enormous woks on the next set of kiosks smelled delicious and Mac’s stomach rumbled in response. Looking around at the stalls Mac saw that he could have had his caricature drawn, bought a brightly coloured hat, had a yoga lesson, a free hug or had his palm read if he felt the urge and had the time. 

“You could buy everything you didn’t know you wanted here,” Mac said to Desi as they passed a vendor selling hand carved spoons. 

“Maybe you should get a henna tattoo?” Desi pointed to a woman sat painstakingly painting a Celtic knot onto another woman’s arm. “We could see what you’d look like with some ink on you.” 

“Maybe later,” Mac answered. 

People of all races and ages made up the crowd around Mac and Desi and everyone seemed relaxed and happy. Mac looked behind him in the mirror of a sunglasses stand and saw that the Black Thorn’s clean-up crew were still there, blending in with the people around them as best they could. 

“Are we going to disappear into the crowd when whatever is going to happen over there happens?” Mac asked, pointing at the large group of people standing around on the grass that he and Desi were moving towards. They wound their way through the group until there were at the heart of the mass of people. 

“Yep.” Desi said, “And I think it’s about ready to start.” 

“What is going to start?” Mac asked. Desi seemed confident that whatever it was would provide enough of a distraction to allow them to sneak away but he couldn’t tell what it was going to be. There wasn’t a stage with a group or a DJ waiting to perform on it so a concert wasn’t about to begin. There wasn’t a huge TV screen so a broadcast wasn’t going to be shown. A pulse of anticipation flickered through the crowd. People stood straighter and nudged their friends. A screech of static announced a loudspeaker being turned on and the beginning of a countdown rang out over the heads of the waiting crowd. 

“Ten! Nine!” 

Everyone around Mac joined in with the countdown. Everyone seemed to know what was going to happen. 

“So when it gets to zero we’re going to duck out when whatever starts distracts our friends back there?” Mac shouted to Desi over the din of the counting. 

“That’s the plan.” 

“And what’s going to happen is…?”

“Oh just wait, you’ll love it,” Desi said. 

The countdown neared it’s end. 

“Five. Four. Three.” 

Mac carefully watched the shifting mass of people, calculating the most effective path to take through the crowd. 

“Two. One.” 

He looked to see if there were any hats or sunglasses in places they could be easily ‘borrowed’ to help hide his and Desi’s appearances. 

“Zero!” Everyone yelled. 

The air filled with colours. Everyone around Mac and Desi threw the coloured powder they were holding up towards the sky. Clouds of red, blue, green, purple, yellow and orange rained down, covering everyone in rainbows. 

“See!” Desi held her arms up and tipped her head back with her eyes closed to let her face be flooded with paint. 

“What is this?” Mac said to her over the ringing of cheers and shrieks of delight. 

“It’s the Festival of Colour, it’s based on the Hindu festival Holi that celebrates the return of spring.” 

The faces around Mac were just like Desi’s. They were covered with powder in every colour of the spectrum, they were lit with wide smiles and were one small part of a mass of paint, humanity and oneness. Everyone was laughing or whooping. Everyone was one other brightly coloured body, unique in the blend of colours covering them but alike as just more person covered in a chaos of paint. Mac joined in with the crowd’s delight. Their joy was infectious, their glee at being part of a glorious mess of bright shades childlike and irresistible. Mac grabbed Desi’s hand and pulled her towards a different part of the crowd, leaving the assassins behind them in another burst of colour. 

Desi’s hair was purple and red, her face a riotous muddle of hues with only her bright smile and laughing eyes recognisable parts of her. She chuckled at Mac. 

“You look good with blue hair, MacGyver, you should think about dying it, it brings out your eyes.” 

Strangers were smearing colours onto each other’s skin. The crowd moved in ebbs and flows of messy brightness. The Black Thorn’s people were left behind, buried in colour and the goodwill of the people around them. 

The Tradecraft training courses Mac had been on had never covered dousing yourself in paint in a large crowd to confuse and disorientate your pursuers but Mac now knew that doing that definitely worked. The Black Thorn’s people were long gone and this, Desi bumped into Mac as she stepped around a dancing child leaving a smudge of yellow on his shirt, this was much more fun than dying your hair in an airport bathroom. 

“They’re gone,” Mac said, blinking against the orange mist dusting him. “We can head back to the Phoenix.” 

“Maybe we should wait a minute to be sure,” Desi blew the handful of scarlet powder she’d just been given in Mac’s direction. 

“I agree,” Mac scooped a half empty bag of lilac powder from the floor and shook it at Desi, “It never hurts to be thorough.” 

  


“This isn’t helping at all,” Desi had said as she shook her jacket to try and remove some of the colourful dust covering it. “I think I’m just moving if from my jacket onto my shirt.” 

“Me too,” Mac patted at his sleeves but instead of clearing off the powder there he just ended up covering his hands in it. “I think it’s going to take a good soak with soap and hot water to get this stuff off us.” 

The hum and rumble of the festival could still be heard blocks away from it as Mac and Desi - using their Tradecraft skills - left it behind them in search of a vehicle they could borrow. Drifts of rainbow coloured clouds followed them as they walked through the Phoenix headquarters’ corridors and into the War Room but Mac was too full of adrenaline and good vibes to feel embarrassed about his and Desi’s appearances. They looked like they’d been swimming in a vat of Skittles but rather than feeling ridiculous Mac just felt a little bit sorry for all the non-painty people he was passing who’d missed out at being at the festival with him and Desi.

“Okay?” Matty said, eloquently raising an eyebrow at Mac as Desi as they came through the War Room door. “Now that you’re both here I’ll wrap everything up. The witness is in the safe house, the FBI are guarding him and he’s due to testify tomorrow. The information he has should take down the leaders of the Black Thorn for good ridding the city of a dangerous gang. The head of the Agency thanked me personally for the Phoenix’s assistance so that’s a helpful ally on our side which is always a good thing.” 

“We left told the police about the assassins that were following us,” Mac said, ignoring the amused grins and sniggers Riley, Bozer and Russ were aiming in his and Desi’s direction. “They should be in custody now.” 

“That’s good.” Matty nodded. “I think we can call this a successful day.” 

“Great.” Desi swung her arms backwards and forwards, leaving little trails of colour behind her as she moved. “And if we’re all wrapped up here I think I for one would like to go and have a shower.” 

“Me too.” Mac raised a purple and orange hand, “I’d like to have a shower too.” 

”That’s probably a good idea.” Matty nodded sharply. “Before either of you permanently stain anything. You both look like an explosion in a preschool supply cupboard.” 

“No wait, don’t go yet!” Russ called, pulling his phone out of his pocket as Mac and Desi turned to leave the room. “I think we might need a picture of how you both look right now for your files, and maybe one for the bulletin board in the break room too.” 

“We don’t have a bulletin board in the break room,” Bozer said. 

“Not yet but I’ll buy one to put a picture of those two on.” Russ grinned. “Maybe I’ll add a caption competition.” 

“Ooh yes!” Riley said, “Give me a minute and I’ll think of a caption!” She shook her hands up and down as she thought, “There has to be a joke about spies and missions and colours, I’ve almost got one…Mission Indelible? No…Mission Iridescent? No…”

“Baste the rainbow?” Bozer suggested. 

“I like that!” Russ said. “I have something about being caught red handed but it’s not quite right yet…”

“We’ll leave you to your thoughts,” Mac said and he and Desi headed off towards the showers with the sound of their friends laughter following them. 

  


“Did you get all the colours off you when you had a shower?” Mac asked. 

Desi held out an arm and hummed. “Not all of them, I think it might take a couple of days for them all to work their way out.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Mac stared down at the faint red tinge inside the creases of his knuckles. “I think I have paint in places I didn’t know paint could get.” 

They’d ordered pizza – Mac found that being covered in colours made him surprisingly hungry – and the whole team had sat around Mac’s fire pit eating, laughing and enjoying spending mission free time together. Matty, Riley, Bozer and Russ had drifted home claiming tiredness and upcoming busy days but the pleasant buzz of the festival was still humming through Mac’s bloodstream and he wasn’t ready to sleep yet. Desi must have felt the same because she’d stayed beside Mac, nursing a beer and watching the burning logs in the fire settle into ash. 

“Have you been to the Festival of Colour before?” Mac asked Desi. “You knew what was going to happen.” 

“I haven’t,” Desi said, “but I’ve heard of it. I’ve wanted to go for a long time, I’ve always thought it sounds like a lot of fun.” 

Mac took a sip of his beer. “We should go together next year. It’s probably even more fun when you aren’t being followed by people who want to kill you.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Desi nodded. 

“All right then.” 

“It’s a date,” Desi said and she and Mac clinked their beer bottles together. 

When Mac lowered his arm he felt heat building his left wrist. Except what he was feeling wasn’t heat exactly. It was more like the absence of cold, or the presence of not cold anymore. Mac felt his pulse speeding up, his heart throbbing, but he wasn’t frightened or agitated. The feeling washing through him was exhilaration but he was calm too, and his emotions were twinned with a certainty that everything was going to be all right. Somehow all of those feelings were centred on the skin of his left wrist. 

Beside Mac Desi gave a gasp and Mac saw what he was feeling reflected in her eyes. He pulled back his sleeve at the same time as Desi did and they both stared down at their arms. Marking the skin of both of their wrists were Mobius strips in matching twists of colour. 

“Oh,” Desi said. 

“Ah,” Mac said. 

They looked at each other and Mac put his wrist next to Desi’s to compare their marks. Their soul marks. The soul marks that were colourful and beautiful and absolutely, definitely there. 

”How didn’t we know?” Mac said. 

“I think we did know. But we didn’t know that we knew,” Desi said. “Don’t you think?” 

“That doesn’t make sense but it’s true.” Mac looked up into Desi’s eyes then back down at the Soul Marks on their wrists. “How does that work?” 

“You’re the egghead, Egghead,” Desi teased. “You tell me.” 

Of course, Mac thought again at he stared down at the Mark on his skin. Now that the evidence was before his eyes he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t been aware of it before. Of course he and Desi shared a Soul Mark. They’d created it together, each day, when they were talking and laughing and bickering with each other - especially when they were sparking against each other and finding ways to weave their differences and similarities together. 

“Do you think – do we – do we kiss now?” Mac asked. In fairy tales when their Soul Mark’s appear the prince and princess fall into each other’s arms and share love’s true kiss but fairy tales were nothing like reality. 

Desi pursed her lips in thought. “I think we do. I think it’s ineffable.” 

“Do you mean inevitable?” 

“That too.” 

Desi shuffled closer to Mac. Mac shuffled closer to Desi. Mac cleared his throat. He moved his beer bottle to the side to make sure he didn’t knock it over. 

And then Mac and Desi were kissing. 

The bright colours were in Mac’s head that time. In his heart. Shining, vivid and alive. He hadn’t thought joy had a colour but Mac felt sure that it’s shade would be among the ones bursting inside him. 

Mac and Desi didn’t move away from each other when the kiss ended, they just rested their foreheads together and shared a smile. 

“So now what?” Desi asked, wrapping her arms around Mac. 

“I don’t know,” Mac told her, holding her against him as all the hues of the rainbow plus the colours of happiness, home and love settled over him and Desi, cocooning them in their glow, “but I think we just live the rest of our lives together.” 

“I think we can do that.” Desi was warm and real and his, Mac realised. His, really and truly. Joined and one and endless like the rainbow spiralling on their skin. Just like he was hers. 

“Me too,” Mac said, and they kissed again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Movies that I’ve seen where people scream as a train goes past them are Cabaret and Footloose. I’ve never done it (railway lines are dangerous places, safety first kids) but it does look cathartic.
> 
> There really is a Festival of Colour in the San Fernando Valley based on the Hindu Festival of Holi which celebrates the victory of good over evil and the end of winter and the arrival of spring. The photos make it look like a lot of fun.


End file.
